


I Love You

by Theficsthatremain



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, dont stress over the major character death because its not till the very end idk, i guess it's kinda angsty but more reflective and sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 15:38:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5671264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theficsthatremain/pseuds/Theficsthatremain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a lifetime together, Harry never says the most important words of all. Some things are best left unsaid.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this ages and ages ago, and I really hope that people like it and give feedback and stuff idk  
> I'm not new to the fandom but I'm new to putting myself out there I've basically previously been an anonymous lurker and this is my attempt to make friends and join the fandom properly.  
> Please please please message me at https://www.tumblr.com/ask_form/theleftoverurl.tumblr.com  
> x

Harry never said I love you. When Harry had first made a move, pinning Louis to the wall and capturing him in a devouring, passionate kiss, he hadn’t said a word about his feelings. When they first ‘made love’ and Harry showed him just how much he loved him in the way he pressed soft butterfly kisses all over Louis’ body, and in the way his slender fingers would gently trace softly over the contours of his chest, hips, trailing their way down his body, squeezing his muscles gently, Louis just knew. Because what did it matter, anyway? ‘I love you, I love you, I love you,’ his actions and intense stare would say, but Harry never said a word.

Louis could let it go. Although he did wish that Harry would say those three syllables more than anything else sometimes, he let it go unsaid, let himself feel the words hovering around in the air instead. “I love you,” Louis would whisper quietly. And sometimes Harry would smile at him, a tender smile full of love. And sometimes he would kiss Louis hungrily until he was incoherent. But the statement was never returned.

And sometimes, on cold rainy nights when Louis was all alone and Harry was out partying with somebody, Louis would look miserably at a picture of Harry’s, or one of his belongings, and say the words softly, as if Harry was saying them. “I love you,” he murmurs and then smiles before feeling utterly heartbroken. But soon the door is creaking open as Harry tiptoes in and locks Louis in a tight embrace and they fall under the covers together, and Louis forgets all about what has been left unsaid.

Even when they are united, as they stand tall on their wedding day, as they are made one and are proclaimed together forever, when their relationship is formally and officially concrete – as if it wasn’t before – Harry refuses to say those three words. But Louis is so deliriously happy, spinning Harry around on the dance-floor and peppering his face with light, delicate kisses that he barely notices.

They adopt their first kid and they’re holding their new bundle of joy and she’s gurgling so cutely and Louis just wants to hold her and never let go, he tells Darcy, and will always constantly remind her, how much he loves her. Harry tells her he loves her too, quite often actually, and Louis has to forcibly push away the little twinge of jealousy and doubt when Harry forgets to say it to him. “I love you,” he’ll call out to Darcy as she heads off to school, now a teenager. Then Harry will lean over and peck Lou on the cheek, perhaps stroke it tenderly before sauntering out to visit his friends or the park. But Louis can’t be jealous of his own wonderful child, so he lets the matter rest.

They have a huge fight and Louis actually has to run up to their shared bedroom and lock the door, sinking to the ground and burying his face in his hands, trying to ignore the heated, meaningless cruelties they have just tossed to each other. As he furiously blinks back tears, swiping angrily at his eyes, Harry will come in having used the spare key that’s always in his pocket just in case Lou accidentally locks himself out, and will just hug Louis tightly, whispering apologies in the smaller boy’s ear. At the brush of soft curls on his face, and the sight of green eyes glimmering with tears, Louis’ heart melts and their fight ends abruptly on good terms as Lou cracks an especially lame joke to cheer Hazza up again. But there is always that doubt lingering in the darkest, abandoned corner of Louis’ mind. If Harry loves him so much, why won’t he just say it?

It gets to the point where Louis is desperate for reassurance that he’s still lovable, and at forty five, is having an early midlife crisis. “Love, why don’t you ever say you love me?” he asks, trying to make it sound offhand. Harry is suddenly very intent on the crust of bread he’s feeding to the ducks. He shrugs uncomfortably and changes the subject. Louis doesn’t respond and they spend the rest of the day in awkward silence.

And when Harry is sixty and they’ve lived out most of their lives, Louis just accepts that it’s never going to happen. Whatever the reason, Harry just doesn’t want to say it, and he should just accept the fact and move on. It’s not a big deal at all really; he shouldn’t make such a bloody fuss!  
Harry is diagnosed with cancer at sixty four and is given approximately six months to live. 

Suddenly, Louis’ world is turned upside-down. Harry says he doesn’t mind, and obviously they try not to discuss it, arranging traumatic, heart-breaking things in private, almost secretly, only ever mentioning it if they have to bring it up at all. They quickly schedule in to see everybody that’s ever been considered important in their lives and there’re a lot of tears, crying and Louis grips on so tightly to his walking frame that it feels like he’s the one desperate to remain in reality, he’s the one whose time here is running out rapidly. There is a horrible crushing sensation in his chest and he spends as much time as possible with Harry, tells him he loves him as much as possible. 

One fateful evening, they are lying together in bed, Harry so weak he can barely move, and talking quietly. “I’m so glad I have lived such a wonderful life with you, Lou. Thank you so much, Boo.”

“I…” Louis chokes on his words. “Don’t speak like that Haz, because it sounds awfully morbid.”

They are silent for a few minutes, each wrapped up in their own thoughts, reminiscing silently. Then: “It’s not because you didn’t deserve it.”

“Sorry?” Louis asks, confused.

“No, please Lou, because I don’t want you thinking it’s your fault in any way.”

“Harry…”

“Please don’t interrupt because I don’t know…don’t know how much,” Harry rasps weakly, struggling slightly to form words. “…I just thought that when I was younger…well, there were so many people, and I always wanted it to be you and only you forever and ever, no matter how many dates management sent me on. And then I kissed you…trust me it took a lot of courage to face up to the potential rejection…and I…I found out that we felt the same way. You have no idea the weight that lifted off me.”

“Then you were so free with the way you threw in ‘I love you’ like it didn’t have a price but you were secure, see, because I never deserved you. Darcy was ours, but you were never mine. And I couldn’t help thinking that one day you’d find someone who deserved you more. And you’d leave. Even when we were married, I couldn’t help but think…” Harry took a deep breath and a few hacking coughs before continuing.

“…because if you moved on and left me behind, I would surely die,” a small self-deprecating smirk quirks the corners of his lips upwards, “…not that that matters anymore, I suppose.”

“Harry, you know I love you,” Louis says thickly through the tears flowing freely down his face across his cheeks. He can’t even be bothered hiding the raw emotion displayed so prominently on it; not when Harry has just confessed something so beautiful. “And you should know; I’d never have left you.”

“I…I knew that,” Harry said, with something akin to wonder in his husky voice. “But there was always a chance.”

“Harry…”

“What you don’t understand is that words are binding,” Harry said, interrupting in a weak voice. “If you say something, whether you mean it or not at the time, it eventually comes true. And I couldn’t attach myself too much by saying it, because if anything were to happen to you, I would be condemning myself.”

There is a pause. Harry’s voice is now so weak that Louis can barely hear it. He leans in close, snuggling into Harry’s side. Both can sense that the end is near, although neither mentions it. There are tears streaming in silver rivulets down both of their faces now. Then: “Thank you.”

“Thank you for being my Boo Bear. Thank you for always being there for me, and never leaving me. Thank you for loving me and providing me with the best friendship, love and relationship that anyone could ever have. Thank you so, so much. And…” Harry struggles to inhale.

“I love you.”

Harry Styles only ever said I love you to Louis Tomlinson once in contrast to the several million times Louis must’ve said it. But it meant more than simple lust, passion or even just plain love. To Harry, I love you was a promise. A promise of a lifetime of devotion fulfilled.

**Author's Note:**

> If you wish to give feedback: https://www.tumblr.com/ask_form/theleftoverurl.tumblr.com  
> Thank you so much for reading I honestly don't know if I should expect anyone at all to read this lol?


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